and intersected by several deep clefts. In front was a little hill crowned by the tomb of some celebrated Sheikh, and away to the right an incongruous square structure, built for a summer residence of Mohammed Ali. I felt satisfied that here was the camping ground of Israel, and in front the “Mount of the Law.” The spacious plain we had been passing through, covered with herbage, would have afforded ample space for the people with their flocks and herds, and the mountain masses in front, reverberating with the thunders of heaven, would have been well calculated to impress them with awe and reverence.
Turning again to the left the path leads up to, and past, the convent of St. Catherine, and thence, by an excessively steep and long ascent, to the base of the great wall of rock, upon the summit of which are perched the little chapel and mosque of Jebel Mûsa. To an ordinary pedestrian this wall would be inaccessible, as it rises as a sheer precipice before him; but on looking to the right along its base, one perceives that the rocks are cleft in twain, and that the path turns sharply to the right, and passes through this cleft, between vertical walls on either side. After this there is a climb of several hundred feet, round by a partially artificial flight of steps to the summit above the great precipice. I mention this cleft, because on entering it I exclaimed to myself, “Can this be the cleft of the rock in which the Lord placed His servant when He made His glory pass before Him?” Whether this be so or not, the cleft is remarkable as a natural feature, and from its wild and impressive surroundings.
Nothing can exceed the savage grandeur of the view from the summit of Mount Sinai. The infinite complication of jagged peaks and varied ridges, and their prevalent intensely red and greenish tints, have been noticed by Pococke, Stanley, and other writers.[1] The natural red tints of the granite and porphyry seem to have been deepened and intensified (as I believe) by the rays of the sun; while in some places the rocks are blackened through the natural process of weathering.[2] Everywhere they are rent, fissured, and crumbling into ruins; breaking off along steep walls, and traversed by dry ravines and almost waterless, therefore treeless, valleys;—destitute of verdure as seen from this elevation. The whole aspect of the surroundings impresses one with the conviction that he is here gazing on the face of Nature under one of her most savage
